


the smallest of things

by tirsefam



Series: The Smallest of Things [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Tower, Bed-Wetting, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Chronic Pain, Depression, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little!Bucky - Freeform, M/M, Malnutrition, Non-Sexual Age Play, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsefam/pseuds/tirsefam
Summary: After decades as a POW and brainwashed assassin, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes prefers to keep to himself. Having found himself living in Avengers Tower, he struggles to keep a big secret (or a small one, you could say) from those who care about him most.OR;Barnes wishes people would stop expecting him to be Bucky and be some great, strong hero when all wants to do is be Jamie and cuddle with his stuffie and watch cartoons.Read the tags
Relationships: Background Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Avengers Team
Series: The Smallest of Things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897615
Comments: 14
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic contains non-sexual age play and (more likely than not) many medical, psychiatric, psychological, and scientific inaccuracies.  
> See end note for more info about the tags.
> 
> I usually don't post my writing because of the anxiety over too long gaps between updating so this time I'm just posting and trying not to angst over it too much. So please excuse the REALLY inconsistent update schedule. I don't intend to abandon this fic, so even if I haven't posted in a while (like, say, since July and it's halfway through November, like the gap between chapters 1 and 2...), don't worry!

"Hey, Buck? You up?" a disembodied voice calls softly through the door and knocks lightly. No matter the soft gloves Rogers uses, Barnes still jerks off the mattress and almost hits his head on the bedside table.

Barnes never wakes up gradually or calmly anymore, he can't. It's not that he has nightmares- though of course he has nightmares. He just can’t find and stay in those moments between sleep and wakefulness. Many a morning (or in the middle of the night), his body jump-starts and skips most of the process, flooding with adrenaline, and he wakes up gasping and grasping for something to defend himself with. This lasts until the adrenaline ebbs and the near-constant undercurrent of pain takes over.

In his early days in the tower when he did manage to fall asleep, this meant falling out of bed as he ducked for cover and groped for weapons that weren’t there and, once he came to a more conscious state, holding the metal arm as still as possible until he could get a grip on the waves of pain up and down the left side of his torso and across his shoulders. Now, he sleeps with his mattress on the floor next to the bed. You can't fall onto the floor if you're already there. He's almost proud for thinking of it. As for the pain, there's no use mentioning it. Now that he's on a steady stream of painkillers (that only just manages to take the edge off on a good day) alongside the rest of the pharmacy in his bathroom, Barnes is used to it most days.

Barnes- he’s _Bucky_ , he has to be _Bucky-_ evens his breath and affects the voice that almost never fails to make Rogers happy. A hint of 40s-Brooklyn-Bucky, casual and holding no pain. “Yeah, Stevie?"

“Me and Sam are going for a run. Would you like to join us?” Barnes can almost see the hopeful look through the door. He's glad he can't.

“No,” he replies. After a moment of silence from the other side of the door he adds, “Have a good run.” He covers his head with the comforter to muffle whatever disappointed reply Rogers gives and waits. He doesn't move until he hears a British voice from the ceiling.

“Captain Rogers and Sergeant Wilson have left.”

Barnes tries to smile towards one of the cameras his ally uses to surveil his actions, but it ends up more like a grimace. He doesn’t bother faking a smile the way he does outside his room; there’s no point. It’s JARVIS’ job to watch him and the AI has already seen him at his worst and at his most private. It would be a 24/7 endeavor to keep things from the AI. And it's already exhausting keeping things from Rogers and his team.

“Thanks, JARVIS.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.” And with that, JARVIS turns the radio on. It’s all part of their morning routine for minimal stress-inducing anxiety- after Rogers leaves for his morning run, JARVIS puts on the radio, and Barnes moves around the living area until Rogers and/or Wilson return from their run, and Barnes retreats back into his room.

Barnes half-listens to the radio describing local traffic as he checks the pajamas and mattress for any wet spots. Thankfully not finding any this morning, he gathers up the bedding and drags the mattress back into place on the bed frame. He won’t have to make an emergency run to the laundry room today.

Every morning he puts the mattress and the sheets back onto the bedframe and pretends that everything is normal. No one’s tried to talk to him about it, or anything else going on that he’d much rather not talk about, so he figures JARVIS hasn’t ratted him out yet. Reason 1 why JARVIS is an asset- no, reason 1 why JARVIS is a _friend_.

Barnes closely inspects the room after making his bed (pristine, with military corners) for any indication that his nightly and morning routines are anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied, he proceeds to the washroom, the sound of the radio following him through the living quarters.

He's tempted to skip this part, but dutifully turns back to the mirror. He hates the washroom in the morning. More accurately, he hates the washroom mirror. During his first week in the tower, he broke every single mirror on this floor. The one in the washroom was the only one that was replaced, and maybe mirrors in Rogers's room, but he wouldn't know. He hates it because he has to see himself when he opens the cabinet for his meds and it serves as yet another reminder that he both is and isn’t who he’s supposed to be.

Barnes's reflection grimaces at him as he pushes it out of the way for the cabinet behind it. Anti-anxiety to keep him from freaking out on everyone and painkillers for the arm. There’s other meds too, of course, to deal with the various traumas associated with literal torture and brainwashing, but those are the main ones.

He isn't quick enough to avert his eyes when he closes the cabinet. His reflection catches him. If you don’t look too closely, he almost looks like James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. The shape of his chin, the features of his face. But the image always falls short.

 _Bucky_ didn’t have greasy shaggy hair. _Bucky_ didn't have dead eyes. _Bucky_ didn’t take anti-anxiety meds or prescription painkillers. _Bucky_ didn’t have a chrome monstrosity hanging off his body and pulling at the nerves of his shoulder and digging into his bones. _Bucky_ didn’t look like a walking corpse. _Bucky_ wasn’t a mindless assassin for a bunch of fish-worshipping Nazis.

The radio shifts from the news to soft jazz and Barnes returns to awareness, finding that he's curled in on himself and staring into the mirror.

“Thanks,” he breathes. He doesn't think JARVIS has any cameras in the bathroom, but he's pretty sure there's some kind of sensors for emergencies. The brainwashed assassin taking too much time to take his meds probably applies. He releases his crushing grip on the edges of the sink, grateful it wasn’t enough to leave any impressions. Rogers gets this sad puppy dog look whenever he’s wrecked something in the apartment.

Barnes makes a strategic retreat out of the washroom and to the kitchen, where the jazz music continues to follow him. He avoids the food that Rogers has laid out for him to try (a small mountain of toast, eggs, and waffles, and a bowl of oatmeal with fruit in it) and opens the fridge for today’s breakfast: 2 large containers shakes made from bananas, yogurt, vegetables, some powder that Stark insisted on, and peanut butter.

Once a week, when Rogers is doing SHIELD work or spending time with the other Avengers, Barnes prepares a week’s worth of smoothies and shakes that won’t upset his stomach. There’s a chart on the fridge of recipes for protein and weight gain that he’s supposed to follow, but the shakes and smoothies are the only thing he’s really taken to so far. His metabolism isn’t quite as bad Rogers, but it still means despite his wariness of eating solids, he needs to eat regularly or risk getting sick or passing out (and wasn’t that fun to find out the hard way). He's really supposed to eat more, which is why Rogers and Wilson make him these feasts that they know he won't eat, but he just can't do it.

He takes a tray with the shakes on it. After a moment of hesitation, the oatmeal and fruit from the table join the shakes on the tray, and he carries it to the couch in front of the tv screen.

The jazz music cuts off as he sets the tray down on the coffee table. The tv turns on and new music fills the room as the screen lights up to show a cartoon girl in a doctor’s lab coat dancing with toys.

“ _The Doc is in and she'll fix you up. If you're a toy then you're in luck-”_

And just like that, Barnes is Jamie.

He more often than not wishes that people would call him anything but _Bucky_ , but sometimes he wishes someone would call him Jamie.

Jamie exists in the tiny moments where Barnes doesn’t have to pretend to be _Bucky_ and he can be someone no one knows. Where Barnes has to hide in his room to feel safe, Jamie is downright content to cuddle on the couch or in his room with soft things, pretend there’s nothing bad in the world, and forget there ever was a _Bucky_. Jamie doesn’t have to worry about being a weapon, because who can worry about being dangerous when they’re watching cartoons or hugging a stuffed animal?

Jamie doesn’t do it very often, just when Rogers and Wilson are gone, though sometimes he listens at his bedroom door and cradles a lamb with his flesh arm while Rogers and Wilson watch tv or discuss missions on the couch. Usually, though, it is reserved for when he’s alone in the apartment, except for JARVIS of course, and he can sit quietly and not have to worry about anything or anybody. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that can separate him from the idea of _Bucky_ and pretending to be what he’s not.

Before Jamie sits down to eat, he plucks a small stuffed lamb wearing a shiny pink tutu from the pouch of his hoodie and sets her next to the tray. He arranges the lamb so she can watch Doc McStuffins, too, and she can see herself on the screen, helping Doc take care of broken toys. Jamie rarely speaks, so he rarely calls her by her name, but he thinks it in his head: Lambie. If _Bucky_ existed in Jamie’s moments, he might say that watching Doc McStuffins with Lambie reminds him of reading stories about a stuffed bear to a girl just a little bit smaller than him as she holds her own stuffed bear. Still, Jamie gets a faint urge to ask JARVIS about it. He pushes it down with the rest of the _Bucky_ stuff and memories. This is Jamie's time.

“You ought not miss out on the various health benefits of a good breakfast, young Sergeant Barnes.”

Jamie hums in response and sits down. JARVIS would tell him if he wasn’t alone, and he trusts JARVIS to keep him from doing anything to hurt anyone or anything. Plus, he knows all the best cartoons and he never lets him watch something that would scare him. JARVIS is the best surveillance operative/babysitter, Jamie thinks as he hums happily and gathers oatmeal on his spoon.

JARVIS still calls him Barnes when he's like this, but it's not his fault. Jamie doesn't really speak when he gets like this. The AI isn't omniscient, after all. As long as JARVIS doesn't call him _Bucky_ , it's okay. Still, it shows one of JARVIS's few failings. JARVIS is a great babysitter. JARVIS can watch him, turn on the cartoons and the music, but the AI can’t give him a hug or tuck him in when he has nightmares or help him change the sheets. He would be mortified if anyone other than JARVIS ever found out about any of it, but it’s still lonely. Jamie pushes those thoughts away and goes back to enjoying his breakfast, his cartoons, and his favorite (and only) babysitter.

Jamie has a great breakfast/cartoon time. A toy knight is too icky and sticky to be a knight in shining armor so Doc gives him a bath. Then, Doc meets a dog named Boppy with a case of Pricklethorns. He's positively enraptured, giggling and gasping at the tv. He all but inhales the oatmeal and the shakes, distracted by the cartoon, until he's gnawing at his reusable straw and JARVIS pauses the show. Doc is frozen holding a bandaid up to Boppy's side.

"Captain Rogers and Sergeant Wilson have finished their run. They have stopped at the communal floor but have indicated that they intend to return here shortly," he announces. Jamie's eyes water and he can't help letting out a whine. He only ever gets to be Jamie for so long and he can't help it, thinking of Wilson and Rogers always makes him feel lonely.

"Young Sergeant Barnes, are you alright? You still have time enough to finish watching your show." Jamie wipes the back of his flesh hand over his eyes and stifles another whine. He can't risk it. He grabs the remote and switches the tv off before JARVIS can. He has to take care of himself or he won't be able to stop.

By the time he's stuffed Lambie back into his hoodie and rinsed his dishes in the sink, Jamie's simple joy has faded and Barnes finds himself standing behind the couch, holding tight to the back of it with a white-knuckled fist. The metal arms hangs heavy at his side, tugging at the muscles and nerves. It hurts to let it hang and it hurts to hold it up, and right now he just can't bother lifting it.

JARVIS attempts to coax him into a more comfortable position. "Perhaps, Sergeant Barnes, you could sit down while you wait? I am certain Captain Rogers and Sergeant Wilson would be most pleased to see you."

But he ignores the AI and doesn't move until he can hear Rogers voice through the door, once again teasing a likely out of breath Wilson for being slow or losing another futile race against the supersoldier. Barnes slinks silently into his room and shuts out the world with a quiet click just as Rogers opens the door.

The dishes in the sink and the missing food are the only signs that Barnes left his room. There are no signs of Jamie at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barnes/Bucky/Jamie has digestion issues where he can't quite handle solid foods and gets most of his food through specialized meal replacement shakes, probably of Tony Stark and/or Bruce Banner design. Still, he doesn't eat enough for someone with a supersoldier's metabolism and is underweight.  
> He's depressed and isolating himself. Nuff said.  
> In this fic, the metal arm the Soviets/Hydra gave him was installed in the worst way, as usual. Very heavy and anchored in bone and muscle. It will be removed and replaced with something better in the future (I intend this to be a series), but in this fic he has chronic pain because of it.
> 
> Thanks for reading


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky eats sparkly bananas and almost blows his cover in front of Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I am so sorry for such a long delay!  
> I intended to update this in way back in August at the latest but 2020 got in the way.  
> Enjoy

When Barnes comes out for breakfast one breakfast, he’s not surprised to find Wilson sitting at the kitchen island but he is surprised that Rogers is nowhere to be seen. JARVIS had told him that Wilson was here, but for some reason he hadn’t realized that meant that Rogers wouldn't be here too.

As if he read Barnes’s mind, Wilson tells him, “Steve had to go in to SHIELD. Should be back sometime later.”

Rogers must have left sometime before Barnes woke up. There’s no giant pile of food for Barnes, just in case he needs it, so it must have been fairly early. He’s not sure how to feel about this. It’s not the first time Rogers has had to go to SHIELD, he still goes on missions, but it’s the first time Rogers left without telling him beforehand. It sets him a little on edge.

He tries to ignore the feeling of unease in his stomach. He can’t skip breakfast. He could make himself sick or pass out or something, or worse, Wilson or JARVIS might tell Rogers. He’d have to see the look of disappointment on Rogers’s face.

Barnes nods to show he heard Wilson and stalks cautiously past him to the fridge. He always feels awkward around Wilson. He’s not from before, he didn’t know  _ Bucky _ , but he spends most of his time with Rogers, who probably never stops telling stories about  _ Bucky _ . So Barnes doesn’t know what expectations Wilson has of him. He isn’t sure how to act around him. Wilson seems alright. He’s all gentle questions and smiles. In some ways it’s easier than being around Rogers. But it’s still awkward as hell. Barnes sticks to being quiet and unassuming, the better for Wilson to forget he’s even there.

“Care to join me?”

Such offers usually come with some expectation that he’ll try whatever they’ve made for their meal. Barnes looks from his shakes in the fridge to Wilson’s breakfast- some fruit and a sandwich. He didn’t even know you could eat sandwiches for breakfast.

“You don’t have to. But I wouldn't mind the company.”

Barnes finds himself nodding again despite himself. He curses inwardly. This can’t end well. Still, he takes out a container of meal replacement shake and pours it into a large glass, almost as large as the containers he usually drinks from and the blender itself. It’s only half of what he usually eats- he should be pouring out two containers’ worth, but he tends to get too nervous to finish when he eats around other people and he doesn’t want to spend too much time out of his room. He tries to stall, taking his sweet time to find a straw. If he takes long enough, surely Wilson will get tired of waiting and leave and he can have his shake in peace. But Wilson just keeps eating and reading something on his phone. He doesn’t give any indication that he’s bothered by Barnes’s delay.

When he finally settles on the stool across from him at the kitchen island, Wilson looks up from his phone and smiles at him, like he’s personally caused Wilson joy. Barnes bares his teeth, twists the edges of his mouth, and squints his eyes. Real smiles usually reach a person’s eyes. He’s figured out how to fake it, mostly. Sounding or acting normal isn’t always possible, but he’s getting better at looking normal. It’s been working pretty well on Rogers.

Wilson’s smile lessens somewhat but doesn’t fall entirely. He’ll have to keep working on it. He’s tempted to ask Wilson about it. Maybe he could tell him where he went wrong.

Wilson fills the silence with chatter, mostly complaints about his and Rogers’s morning runs. (“Sure, I like to stay fit. Especially in the superhero-ing business. But 6am?  _ Every _ morning?” - “I practically had to talk him down from running by himself at 4am!”) He doesn’t seem to expect Barnes to respond, which is ideal.

Barnes slows his breathing and lets Wilson’s voice fade to background noise. Just because he can’t have his usual time alone doesn’t mean he can’t at least try to relax.

Barnes tries to eat his breakfast quietly, if you can call sucking meal replacement shakes through a straw eating. Today’s shake is actually a smoothie: strawberry and oatmeal, with the usual assortment of vegetables and the chalky powder Stark gave him that makes them special enough to keep his body from eating itself. He doesn’t particularly like strawberries, or smoothies, but they’re healthy and the recipe is on the list on the fridge, specially designed to get him close to the amount of calories he’s meant to get on a supersoldier’s metabolism, or at least keep the sharp edge of hunger off. And there’s a little bit of cinnamon and vanilla, which is a little nice. He manages to keep himself from looking longingly at a banana on Wilson’s plate. Bananas are easy. Their taste is bland and they’re easy on the stomach. But today is strawberry smoothie and Wilson hasn’t offered to share.

“How’s your smoothie?” Wilson’s question is unexpected and only years of being trained not to react keeps the smoothie from going down the wrong tube.

“It’s.... Acceptable.”

Wilson frowns. Barnes freezes. He has messed up somehow. He considers retreating to bedroom again. He can finish the smoothie, rinse the glass in the bathroom sink so he doesn’t make a mess. He won’t have to come back out until Wilson leaves or Rogers returns. Wilson won’t have to talk to him.

“How do you feel about trying to eat something a little more substantial?”

Barnes looks at Wilson’s breakfast. It looks and smells so good, but the thought of actually eating it turns his stomach. Wilson sees where he’s looking and he lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head.

“Yeah, your stomach probably can’t handle a fried egg sandwich quite yet. But I saw that you ate some of the fruit and oatmeal we left out yesterday morning. Do you want to try some fruit? We’ve got plenty of options.” He gestures over at a very full, very large fruit basket.

Stark makes sure the kitchens in the Tower are always fully stocked. Normally JARVIS was in charge of the actual ordering, but sometimes it involves Stark getting bored and ordering food ‘bouquets’ for everyone. It’s always interesting to see what Stark chooses, and to watch Rogers all but inhale most of it when he gets distracted reading reports or while drawing. A few weeks ago it was bouquets made up of cookies in the shape of flowers. (Jamie had eaten all the ones decorated to look like roses. He ended up puking later, but it had been fun to pretend he was actually eating flowers instead of cookies.) Now it’s excessively large baskets of fruit.

“I… like bananas?” Barnes offers.

Wilson smiles at him again like he’s done something to be proud, not lied (admitted) about a like for bananas.

“Great! I’ve got an idea.” Wilson leaves his seat then, he hasn’t even finished eating his own breakfast.

Shit. Now Barnes has interrupted Wilson’s breakfast. Barnes makes to stand, “Don’t bother. I’m finished.”

But Wilson puts his hand on his shoulder, the right side, and guides him back down. He’s shocked by the physical contact. It feels…nice. It feels less nice when Wilson takes his hand back and walks away.

A whine builds in Barnes’s throat, but he suppresses it and shakes his head. He’s only like this because Jamie missed his cartoon time. He can’t be Jamie, not now. Not like this. Not in front of Wilson. He can’t inconvenience Wilson further. Not to mention the humiliation. (Though it would be nice to not be alone for once.)

He tries to focus on what Wilson is doing. He has peeled and chopped several bananas into thick slices and is sprinkling something white and powdery on them. What is he doing?

“When I was a kid and we wouldn’t eat our fruit, my mom used to take some banana slices and put a little sugar on them. Whatever worked, you know?”

Barnes doesn’t understand. He could eat bananas. They don’t need sugar. Why is Wilson telling him about his mother? And doing something his mother used to do?

Wilson turns around with a plate full of banana slices. Something must show on Barnes’s face because he frowns again. What did Barnes do wrong now?

“I figured a little change might help,” Wilson explains. He moves to set the plate in front of him, but he hesitates. “You don’t have to eat-”

“No!” Barnes grabs the plate and hunches over it. “It’s fine. I’ll eat it.”

He picks up a piece slowly, trying to keep from touching the sugar and making it fall off. He needn’t have worried, however. It’s slightly slimy to the touch, not quite like when you bite into a banana. And some of the sugar seems to have... dissolved? into the banana. The sugar sparkles slightly in the light. He stares for a moment.

He places one in his mouth and chews once, slowly. His jaw freezes on instinct when he hears a crunch. He’s only managed to eat soft foods lately and he’s tempted to spit it out. Eating crunchy foods doesn’t usually end well. His stomach rolls. But he looks at Wilson, who’s eating his own breakfast and is trying to watch him covertly out of the corner of his eye. (Like he won’t notice. He’s an assassin, for Christ’s sake. If Wilson really wanted to convince him he wasn’t paying attention, he should’ve kept talking.)

Wilson made this for him, something his mom used to make it for him. He can’t spit it out. It wouldn’t be nice. And the sparkles are pretty.

Tentative, he chews again. It’s still crunchy, but not as bad as he thought. And it’s sweet. He likes sweet. He decides he likes sugar. There’s not much sugar in his shakes and smoothies, it’s mostly honey. It’s supposed to be healthier, so it’s in more of the recipes on his list. 

Looking at the rest of the plate, he decides he doesn’t just like sugar, he likes how sugar sparkles. He reaches out carefully and picks up another one and chews another and another, each time picking whichever one looked like it had the most sugar, until his stomach turns again and he can’t stand to eat any more. The plate is half empty then, most of the sugar already dissolved into the rest of the slices. They still sparkle a little, but not as much as when he started. He hums happily, reveling in the sight of the remaining sparkles and the half-empty plate. He managed to eat a lot more than he thought he would!

“So. What’s the verdict?” Jamie jumps. He’d almost forgotten he wasn’t alone.

He looks at what’s left on the plate. “I like ‘em. They’re sparkly.”

Barnes jerks his head up, blushing and clearing his throat. “I mean-! I mean they’re good.” Clearing his throat, Barnes ducks his head and resolutely doesn’t meet Wilson’s eyes. “It was. Good. Thanks.”

“No problem. Just promise you’ll keep ‘sparkly bananas’ in mind if you get tired of smoothies. Whatever works, right?” When he glances at Wilson, he’s smiling at him. It makes his stomach feel weird. He resolves to eat more slowly next time. He doesn’t want to puke up and see bananas and sparkles. Ugh.

Barnes turns away and pushes the feeling down. He slowly sips his smoothie in silence. As long as he’s eating, Wilson won’t start up any further conversation, he hopes.

Merciful mercies, Wilson gets a call before long and he excuses himself.

Barnes waits until Wilson steps out onto the balcony that Barnes isn’t allowed out on by himself and out of sight before slumping over the island.

That was too close. He’d never been Jamie or sort-of Jamie around someone else before. He’d never spoken to anyone as Jamie before, except the odd request to JARVIS. It had been nice, Wilson had been nice... but there’s no way Wilson would have been so nice if he’d known what was going on in Barnes’s head.

He doesn’t bother finishing his smoothie. He sets it in the sink and is about to go back to his room like usual when Wilson steps back inside and stops him, his phone still held against his ear.

“Everyone’s gonna eat together tonight. Do you think you’re up to it?”

This happens from time to time. The Avengers apparently eat lunch or dinner together a few times a week, personal schedules and natural or not-so-natural disasters permitting. It’s usually Rogers who asks him to join. He usually says no. He should really stay in his room the rest of the day, he shouldn’t risk it. Not after being so close to baring his secret to Wilson.

He nods anyway. Wilson smiles at him. Even when he bares his teeth and forgets to crinkle the muscles around his eyes, Wilson’s smile doesn’t fall.

Barnes manages to close the door on Wilson and his smile. He listens as Wilson returns to his call and tries to convince himself that this won’t go horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't intend to abandon this so if there is ever a long period between updates, I swear I haven't abandoned it. I'd say in the summary or post an author's note if I did (even if I don't like them).  
> And don't worry, I'll get chapter 3 out a LOT sooner.
> 
> Thanks for reading


End file.
